It Ain't Over Yet
by PearlQ19
Summary: About two years after the death of the Gunmen. Jimmy and Yves have lost the contact and then meet again in a club... by chance... Jimmy's POV
1. It Ain't Over Yet

**It Ain't Over Yet**

_Author's Note: This little story practically reflects what I experienced on New Year's Eve this year. I still haven't managed to call the guy... I needed some way to compensate the whole story, so I thought I could just turn it into a fanfiction, putting myself into the position of Jimmy and the guy in question into Yves's. It wouldn't work the other way round, for Jimmy would then be too much out of character. Unfortunately Yves is, though... at least a little. Tell me what you think of it... as always, send a review even if you didn't like this. Oh, and as always... if you spot any grammar/spelling/vocab mistakes, please tell me. And please don't feel like a teacher when you do - you'd be helping me! Really!_

_Disclaimer: I don't own any the characters mentioned. They belong to Chris Carter, Frank Spotnitz and whoever else was involved in TLG (or inventing the characters on "The X-Files", for that matter). The song at the end is mine, though. I'm not taking any profit out of this story... I'm writing it merely to get some things straight._

_Summary: This takes place about two years after the death of the Gunmen. Jimmy and Yves have lost the contact despite everything that was about to develop between them. Now they meet again in a club... by chance... Told from Jimmy's point of view._

_And now the story._

Only when I ended up standing all alone on this sort of balcony above the dancefloor did it occur to me that I didn't have as many friends as I always thought. Although I had happened to meet some distant acquaintances every now and then, I had spent most of the evening on my own, clutching a bottle of cheap beer, watching people. When I'd left my apartment this evening, I'd had only a few very modest intentions: Have some fun. Meet a few people. Drink and dance the whole night through and clear my head of all the thoughts rushing through my brain.

But then I realized that this was an easy thing to intend, but a very hard thing to put into practice. The evening stretched on, and apart from a "Hi, how you're doing?" now and then I hadn't talked to anyone, let alone met new people or made friends. I'd always considered myself a sociable person. But all the friends I used to have seemed to have forgotten me. The only real friends I'd had were the Gunmen.

But they have been dead and gone for two years - died as heroes and buried in Arlington. And on this very day, I lost another person. A woman who once meant the world to me; a woman for whom I would have done anything.

I'm talking about Yves, of course. She and I never quite got around to anything, but still I think that there was something between us... a special something only we could see. But we parted before we could make out what it was. Of course we tried to stay in touch, or at least I tried. But apart from an occasional call now and then, nothing happened. I felt her slip from me every time I tried to reach her and only got her answering machine. She never had time for me, although she seemed to be genuinely delighted whenever I called. And then somehow the bond between us vanished.

I didn't call her this Christmas, and neither did she. Maybe she spent the holidays with some beautiful guy in Monte Carlo or on a cruise on the Nile...

Did she forget me? I wondered. I couldn't imagine that; there was so much between us that remained unspoken. But how come, then, that we weren't able to keep in touch?

All these things were going through my head while I was standing on that balcony, looking down into the crowd. I watched them dance, drink, laugh, kiss... And of course I saw Yves everywhere I looked.

Suddenly a shock went through my body. I had been staring blankly at one spot when something familiar met my eye. The swish of soft, heavy dark curls hanging loosely down the back of a beautiful woman... I blinked and looked closer. The stroboscopic lights were of no help, but once I had fixed my eyes on this woman, it became clearer and clearer to me that this time I wasn't seeing ghosts.

It was her. Yves. She was here, only a few meters away from me.

My heart started to race at once and I felt my fingers start to tremble. I groped the bottle of beer tighter and clenched my teeth.

Yves was standing right below the balcony so I could actually look down on her head. While I was still watching, she turned a little aside so that I could see her from sideways on. It was unmistakeably her. I had never forgotten her face...

She was talking to a man of about my age standing next to her. I watched with a jealous eye, looking for any sign that showed that they were more than just friends, companions or colleagues. But I couldn't see anything that would have given them away - neither were they holding hands, nor did Yves seem coy in any way. She was just talking to him.

I fought a battle with myself. Should I dare just go down and say hi? How would she react? It had been almost two years since we'd last seen each other. I didn't know anything as to how her life had gone on...

I pulled myself together. After all, I could hardly ignore her. I would regret it for the rest of my life. And maybe... just maybe she would be pleased to see me.

I downed the rest of my beer, left the empty bottle on the floor and went down the stairs. My heart was beating faster and faster as I was approaching her. She was standing with her back turned towards me, so that I would have to draw her attention to me.

Oh God...

I reached her and kept standing behind her for a few seconds, just looking at her. All that I had ever felt for her came back with a flash, washing over me like a giant wave. I gasped. But now it was too late to give up.

I stretched out my hand and softly touched her shoulder. She interrupted herself right in the middle of her sentence and turned to me.

I smiled nervously. "Hey," I said silently, barely audible over the loud music.

Yves looked at me a moment longer, then a smile slowly started to curl her soft lips. "Hey Jimmy," she said.

There was an odd moment of silence between us, then I simply stretched out my arms and pulled her into a hug. Her arms immediately slid around my neck and she hugged me back. I thought she'd let go of me again, but she surprised me by shifting the position of her arms in order to pull me closer. I felt her head rest against the side of my neck, and all I could think was, 'Oh my God, this something between us... it's still there...'

"So good to see you," I murmured into her ear. She didn't say anything, but she finally let go of me and looked into my eyes.

I squirmed a little uneasily. "Well... how've you been?" I asked.

She gave a smile and then put a hand on my arm. "Let's go outside," she said. Without waiting for my answer, she took my hand into hers and pulled me through the crowd, heading for the exit. I couldn't but follow her.

Outside, she turned to me.

"How're you doing, Jimmy?" she asked. "I haven't seen you for... ages."

"Been awhile," I agreed. "Almost two years."

Yves nodded. Then she pulled out a cigarette and put it between her lips. "Got a light?" she asked.

"Sure," I said. I dug in my pocket and finally got a hold on my lighter. I switched it on and tried to reach the tip of her cigarette. But the wind blew out the flame before the cigarette was lighted.

"Try again," said Yves, and when I switched on the lighter this time, she sheltered the flame with her own hands. Whether it was deliberate or not, she touched my hand with hers while she was steering the flame towards the tip of the cigarette. I put my other hand over the flame as well, and when the cigarette was lighted, our hands remained linked for a second.

Then Yves gave a short laugh. "Jimmy, I'm really too drunk for this," she said.

I frowned. "Too drunk for what?" I asked.

"To talk," she answered, leaning against the wall.

I looked at her a little more closely. I had never seen her drunk, and she could still talk very clearly, but I noticed a certain look in her eyes that gave evidence of her words. Though not completely drunk, she very obviously wasn't sober.

"You've started celebrating at home, then?" I asked with a smile.

"Yeah, with Vodka," she said. A short pause followed, then she sighed. "I gotta sit down for a sec," she announced. "Shall we go back inside?"

"You really think we're gonna get a seat?" I asked dubiously.

"I'll manage," she replied.

I shrugged. "Very well then, let's go back inside."

She took my hand again and we went inside and upstairs. She met someone she knew on the way and wasted a few minutes talking to a heavyset blonde woman. Then she turned to me and smiled. "I'll sit down there," she said and sank heavily into an empty chair.

The only empty chair around, to be exact, so I remained standing next to her, bending down to her a little so that we could talk.

"I'm sorry, I'm really too drunk," she repeated.

"Nevermind," I said. "How are things apart from that?"

"OK," she said thoughtfully. "Yeah, things have been going well. And you?"

"Well..." I plunged into the story of how my life had been in the past two years. Yves seemed to listen carefully though I doubted that she took in everything I told her.

We chatted about this and that for about five minutes, then she suddenly got up again. "I gotta go," she said rather abruptly. "Jake's waiting for me downstairs."

Jake. The guy she was here with. I started wondering again if he was her new boyfriend. But I didn't want to ask. I didn't want to seem too keen. Didn't want to get on her nerves.

"It was great to see you, Jimmy," she said solemnly while she was getting up. Finally standing straight before me, she put her arms around me once again, pulling me into a hug that seemed to last a lifetime. I was just about to say something when I suddenly felt her lips against my face. Startled, I remained silent, but the thought that rushed through my head was, 'She is going to kiss me now.' And I wasn't in the least surprised.

Yves kissed me gently on one side of my jaw. Before I had the time to react it some way, she moved on and sought my lips. She placed another gentle kiss on my mouth, then her lips parted against mine and I felt her tongue run along the lines of my own lips. I automatically responded to her, put my arms closer around her and returned the kiss. Yves retreated shortly, but only to put her head to the other side and kiss me again. This second kiss deepened and was even more intense than the first one. I couldn't but return it, allowing her the permission her tongue sought.

When our lips finally parted, I was left in a mess of feelings running through my head. Yves had kissed me... slowly, deliberately, tenderly. And yet, although I felt lighter than air, I wasn't as startled as I should have been. It somehow felt... natural. The right thing to do.

"Did you owe me this?" I heard myself say against her ear.

She smiled but didn't say anything. And with a last gentle squeeze of my hand, she was gone, leaving me standing there, staring after her in an odd mixture of disbelief and excitement. And, yes... a sort of satisfaction. As if something that was bound to happen finally had happened. And maybe I was right... The only question now was whether this kiss really meant anything. Taking into consideration how things had been between me and Yves while were still working with the guys, it could mean anything... goodbye, beginning, mistake, promise or closure. Or simply the settling of a long overdue score.

Not until fifteen minutes later did I manage to go up to the balcony again and look down into the crowd once more, my eyes thoroughly scanning the people down there, searching for her.

But I didn't find her.

I still hadn't given up the hope of finding Yves when another two hours had passed. And I was finally rewarded: I discovered her standing at a table, talking to the same blonde woman she had greeted before. She seemed more sober than two hours ago. She was standing firmly on the ground and the hand that held another cigarette (when did she start smoking? I wondered) was steady.

I argued with myself if I should go over, but I decided against it. If the kiss had really been a sort of closure - something to end this odd something between us - then she might be bothered if I tried to talk to her about it. So I decided to remain within her eyesight; if she wanted to talk to me, she could just come up to me and do so. I was alone.

I stood there, watching the people on the dancefloor, for about ten minutes, now and then casting a secret glance from the corner of my eye over to Yves. She was still talking to the blonde.

I looked at the dancefloor again when I noticed that Yves was moving. I slowly turned my head into her direction.

She reached me and went straight up to me. She put a hand on my chest.

"Hey," I said, lightly touching her shoulder.

She didn't say anything, but she came closer to me and kissed me again. This kiss landed somewhere on the corner of my mouth and I felt the tip of her tongue only briefly, for before I could react she had withdrawn again, smiled at me and continued her way.

Although I kept searching the whole club for her, I couldn't find her after this last incident. I supposed she had left. I couldn't find this Jake guy, either, so the question remained whether he was her new boyfriend or not.

And whether Yves had wanted to tell me something by the kiss.

I couldn't figure it out, and when I left at about five in the morning, I had my head full of images of Yves and of the feeling of her lips against mine. And I decided to call her the next day.

Provided that I dared.

_Whatever it was  
I will always remember  
Be it blaze or an ember  
Beginning or ending  
Real or pretending  
Whatever it was  
It ain't over yet_

_Whatever you'll say  
I'll accept your decision  
With or without ambition  
Be it future or past  
The first or the last  
Whatever you'll say  
It ain't over yet_

_I've got to know the reason  
Was it love or was it treason  
Was it true or was it fake  
Did you pursue some higher stake  
But whatever you say  
And whatever you do  
Don't tell me it's over  
It ain't over yet_

_Whatever we missed  
I will always regret it  
And I'll never forget it  
Be it far, be it near  
Gone for good or still here  
Whatever we missed  
It ain't over yet_

_Whatever may be  
We should try to achieve it  
Get a hold and retrieve it  
Be it harmless or not  
Cold and dead or still hot  
Whatever may be  
It ain't over yet_

_I've got to know the reason  
Was it love or was it treason  
Did you feel or just react  
Is there a chance or is it wrecked  
But whatever there was  
And whatever may be  
Don't tell me it's over  
It ain't over yet_

_Whatever it was  
And whatever you'll say  
Whatever we missed  
And whatever's to stay  
Let's not lose our connection  
Let's not call it a day  
Let's just be the exception  
To the rule; come what may_

_It ain't over yet  
It ain't over yet_

_You are way too important  
I won't lose you like this  
There's too much I would miss  
You're a soulmate, a friend  
If I must, I'll pretend  
To prevent you from leaving  
To save myself from grieving  
You're a part of my life  
Which ain't over yet_

_It ain't over yet_

_End Note: I know there practically is no real plot to this story. But I just had to get rid of this. And writing a story is always a good way of coping with things one carries. This one certainly isn't gonna win the Pulitzer Prize, but it's real and personal. I still haven't figured out everything concerning this guy; I haven't called him or written him a letter or something... because I don't know if there was anything behind it or not. And as much as I wanna know the reason, I don't want to spoil anything between us. So if anyone of you can give me some advice as to what to do next... I'd be grateful to hear it._


	2. Entr'Acte 1

****

Entr'Acte

__

Author's Note: Now there's actually an update to that story. This intermezzo and the next chapter convey, once again, the truth. With a few alterations, though. I'm planning to write a third chapter from Yves's POV; this third chapter would be entirely ficticious. As you probably remember from my note on the first chapter, I had a little problem with a guy on New Year's Eve. The first chapter is practically a word-for-word account of what happened. Now in this second chapter, I'll probably include some things that actually did NOT happen to me, but the most part of it will be authentic as well.

Disclaimer: I still haven't bought TLG; shame on me... I could put in back on air! "Tragedia" isn't mine, either; please note that this song belongs to Marc Anthony, or whoever composed it or did the Spanish translation. I chose the Spanish version because it's a little different from the English and just fits better into the story. I just hope that I understood the lyrics correctly... Whatever, I'll include an English translation for you, just in case.

Almost four months have passed since that fateful night at the club, and I still haven't heard from Yves. I'm starting to believe that the kiss - the _kisses _- really didn't mean that much to her. Maybe she was just too drunk... Maybe it was, after all, a sort of closure... Well, to be honest, I could have put a little more effort in trying to reach her. I tried to call her about a week after the, uhm, incident and only got her answering machine - as usual. Then I sent her an SMS, but I have no idea if the cell phone number I have is still correct.

Apart from that, life goes on. The anniversary of the guys' death is approaching, and I'm planning to go to Arlington and tell them about it. But then again, I reckon they already know. I'm convinced that this circus Yves and I are performing is cracking them up, up there, wherever they are now.

Only I can't laugh. I'm the broken-hearted clown left behind now that the traveling show has moved on. I'm the clown whom no one takes seriously. Not Yves, not this Jake guy who accompanied her that night; heck, not even I do. I fucked up. I just don't know how.

I've somehow managed to survive. Meanwhile I'm living in Chicago, by the way, and Chicago provides numerous possibilities to distract yourself from grief, confusion, heartbreak, or whatever you're suffering from. Over the past four months, I must have visited every single bar and club in the city, or at least I feel as if I had. I have enough time. I have a job as a football coach, training eleven-year-old kids how to run each other over. They find my name very amusing, and sometimes they call me "Coach 007". I don't make a fortune, but it's just about enough to pay the rent for my little one-room apartment and buy the essential things you need to survive. Including the beers in the evening. But of course it doesn't help me one bit to forget Yves. She is still on my mind, and if I want to relive that scene between us, all I have to do is close my eyes and it's there, as vividly and clearly as if it was three minutes ago.

In the first few nights afterwards I used to dream about Yves. I used to dream all sorts of things - Yves calling me and saying she'd like to see me; Yves bumping into me on the street and instantly throwing her arms around me; Yves and me in a restaurant with candles on the tables and a violonist playing only for us; Yves kissing me tenderly and saying how much she loved me... I used to curse my alarm clock waking me brutally from those dreams and bringing me back to reality and the harsh truth: Yves doesn't care for me. She doesn't love me; she doesn't care if I'm happy. She would have called me if things were different, wouldn't she? She would have done something. Anything.

But she hasn't reacted neither to my SMS nor to the message I left on her answering machine. And I don't know how long I can go on pretending; don't know when I'll have to face the truth and accept it completely. All I know is that I'm a mess. Every morning I wake up with that vague hope in me that today she's going to call me, and every night I go to bed with a feeling of disappointment that never fades entirely. Every morning there remains a little bit more of it than the morning before. The day will come when this disappointment has won over the hope. But up until then, I'm going to keep on hoping.

And on dreaming.

Since I have the feeling that soon it will be all that's left of her.

Ella no me ama, qué dolor

No le interesa que yo sea feliz

Una tragedia, ese es ti amor

Una tragedia del principio al fin

(TRANSLATION:

She doesn't love me, oh this pain

She doesn't care if I'm happy

A tragedy, that's what your love is

A tragedy from the beginning to the end)

End Note: As I said before, I thought that the Spanish lyrics just fit better into the story. The English goes along the lines of, "She doesn't love me; it doesn't mean that it's a tragedy" or something, which conveys a completely different meaning!

Whatever. Keep a look out for the upcoming chapter two when this "soap" continues (no kidding, I really feel as if I'm in a soap opera!)


	3. It Still Ain't Over

**It Still Ain't Over**

_Author's Note: The structure of the story is a little bit confusing, what with the chapters being automatically numbered by the system. But just so you know, this one is called and referred to as chapter TWO, not chapter three (due to my labeling the little inbetween-chapter an "intermezzo", not a real chapter)._

_Disclaimer: Still not mine. But this time, the song at the end is._

One fine day, it was around the equinox in March, I was sitting all alone in my hotel room on my bed. I had arrived in New York yesterday and planned to stay for some time before I went down to Washington and then to Arlington. I wanted to visit the guys, and I had the light suspicion that I would not be the only one standing in front of the memorials. I was almost certain that I would meet Assistant Director Skinner from the FBI. I doubted, though, if Fox Mulder and Dana Scully would make it. They were still on the run, from all I knew.

And then, of course, there was the question as to whether Yves would be there.

And then, just like that, I did it.

I took the phone, took a deep breath and dialed the number of Yves's cell phone. It rang once, twice... My heart was racing at top speed. I tried to brace myself, to prepare for the moment I would hear her sweet voice again and, if possible, not faint right on the spot.

There was a crackle in the phone line and then Yves's voice came out of the receiver.

"Hello?" She sounded slightly breathless.

I tried to sound as casual and cheery as I could.

"Hi Yves, this is Jimmy," I said and waited for her reaction. Would she even recognize me at once?

It didn't take her as much as a split second; it was almost as if she had been expecting my call. "Oh, hi," she said, and she sounded genuinely delighted. "Jimmy. How are you doing?"

"Fine, fine, and you?"

"Me too."

"What are you doing right now? Did I disturb you?"

In my mind I was cursing myself. Here I was, doing small talk, although there were so many questions I was burning to ask her.

"Well, not really." Yves laughed. "I'm just up to my ears into work. Was just studying an essay about the works of Salvador Dalí; gotta play an art college student for a few weeks. Don't ask me; it's a new job."

I promised I wouldn't interrogate her.

"Where are you?" I asked.

"New York," she answered, and my heart leaped into my throat.

"Really? So am I!" I burst out.

"Are you?" Suddenly there was an (ever so light) edge in her voice. It sent little icicles sliding down my spine, and I wondered if I had said anything wrong.

"Yeah, I am," I answered. "And, hey, why don't we meet up tonight? Have a few drinks somewhere, talk a little?"

"Well, yeah, maybe," she said. "But I can't guarantee. I'm leaving town tomorrow afternoon, and I've got loads of stuff to do before that. So I really don't know if I'll have the time. I'd rather say no, Jimmy. I'm sorry."

My world was crumbling, but I didn't want her to notice even the slightest thing. "Well, 'twas just a thought," I said. "After all, it's been a while. And I was just thinking it would be nice to see you when you're not, uhm, completely drunk."

Yves laughed. "Well, you're right, that's a good argument," she said. "But honestly, Jimmy, I don't think it's gonna work. And I'm sorry, but I gotta hang up now. Don't have much time."

Every fiber of me wanted to scream, "Please don't!", but the last thing I wanted was Yves thinking I was running after her. If she didn't have the time to see me, then that was that. I should just accept it. But going on without having sorted things out... I knew that if I couldn't talk to her soon, and in person, that night would haunt me forever. And I just couldn't cope. I needed to know. But how could I tell her without creating the impression that I was desperate? The most important thing now was not losing her. If that meant that I simply had to ignore what had happened between us, then OK. But still... there had to be a way for me to let her know I really wanted to see her without scaring her away.

"Jimmy?" Yves asked. I winced. I hadn't noticed that I had remained silent for quite a while.

"Still there," I said.

"Listen, I really gotta hang up now," she said. "I'll call you tomorrow, that okay? Maybe I will after all have some time to spare for you."

"That would be great," I said. "You still have my number?"

Yves hesitated for a moment, then she said, "Well, yeah, somewhere. But why don't you just give it to me one more time? I'll write it down."

"Alright." I dictated my cell phone number and my landline, and I heard her pen scratching over paper.

"Got 'em," she said. "I'll call you tomorrow."

"I'll make sure I'm available," I promised.

Yves laughed silently. "Good to hear from you, Jimmy," she said.

Suddenly there was a lump in my throat, and I swallowed hard. "Yeah, you too," I said. "See you around."

"OK. Bye, Jimmy."

"Bye."

I remained there with the receiver in my hand even after she had hung up, not knowing if I should feel relieved, depressed or excited. Now I had finally reached her, but was I now wiser than before?

I waited and waited. I didn't dare to go anywhere without having my cell phone ready for fear I might miss her call. Heck, I even took it with me to the bathroom. When I went out in the afternoon, I avoided the subway because I wasn't sure if I'd get a call connected from underground.

But Yves didn't call.

When it was closing in on 4 pm, I couldn't stand it any longer. Although I felt a little uneasy when I took the phone and dialed her number, I just couldn't wait any longer. I had reached a point at which I just wanted to get things straight. I wanted a clear answer. No maybes, no probablys, no ifs, no buts. Just a plain, simple yes or no.

While I was waiting for the call to be connected, I remembered our telephone conversation from yesterday. Was there anything I could conclude from her reactions? But all I remembered was that she had seemed to be really delighted to hear from me, and that she was reluctant to meet me. But on the other hand I didn't think she had lied to me. Knowing Yves, I was sure she had a lot to do. Maybe she really just didn't have time for me.

Yves answered the phone on the fifth ring.

"Hello?"

"It's me again, Jimmy."

"Jimmy! Oh! Hi!" Yves sounded a little distracted, and I heard a door closing in the background.

"You having a guest over there?" I asked. "Is my timing bad?"

"No," Yves said. "I mean, well, it's not the best of moments for you to call; I'm halfway through a meeting with a client, but we were about to take a break, anyway."

"Well," I said, "I thought you were leaving town today?"

"Yes, I am," said Yves. "In about an hour. I'm sorry, Jimmy, I know I said I'd call you. I always promise to call and then I don't. Sorry for that."

"Nevermind," I said. "That's why I called you now."

My goodness, I thought, now how clumsy does _that_ sound? Like a fifteen-year-old trying to ask his crush out on a first date!

"So..." Yves drawled.

"So I just wanted to ask you if you've changed your mind about that meeting," I said.

Yves sighed. "I'm sorry, but it's not gonna work, Jimmy. I gotta leave in less than an hour. But I told you already yesterday that I probably won't have the time."

"Well," I said, trying not to let my disappointment show. "That's a pity. I'd really have loved to see you again." I almost added, "Because I miss you," but I swallowed that down.

"Hey, I'm sure the time will come when we're at the same time in the same city again," said Yves bracingly.

"Yeah, 'course," I agreed. "I was just thinking... I can hardly remember the way you are when you're normal; last time you were so drunk..."

"Well, now I'm normal," she said and laughed.

"Oh, great," I said, and laughed as well.

"Alright," Yves said. "Sorry I'm in such a hurry, but my client's coming back now. I'm sure we'll meet again, Jimmy."

I decided to take a brave step forward. "But, Yves... you're not avoiding me, are you?"

"No, of course not!" It almost sounded honest, and maybe it was, but I thought I could hear an ever so slight hesitation in her voice.

"Good," I said. "There wouldn't be a reason, you know."

"Sure," she said, and this time she definitely sounded honest. "Why should there be a reason? I mean, everything's alright, isn't it?"

"Yes, yes, sure," I said hastily, trying to keep my voice cheerful and confident. I hardly managed.

That's it, I thought. Either she has forgotten everything, or she wants to pretend it never happened. Whatever you want, Yves, I'll be fine with it. Gotta be, I reckon. As long as I'm not losing you.

"Well, Jimmy, how about we just talk again some time soon?" Yves said. "It's nice staying in touch with you."

"Glad to hear that," I said as charmingly as I could. "I'll call you again, you OK with that?"

"Sure." Yves said something to the other person in the room, then she turned her attention to me once again. "Listen, Jimmy, I really gotta stop now. There's a lot of stuff we still need to discuss here."

"Alright, Yves. See you some time soon. Take care."

"You too, Jimmy. Bye."

She hung up even before I could say "Bye" as well.

I placed the receiver back on the table and flopped on the bed. Staring at the ceiling, I tried to figure out what this all had meant. But my thoughts were going on a rollercoaster ride around my head, and only gradually did they settle down.

I wanted to cry. This was not what I had planned. I had planned to go for a drink with her, talk about this and that, and then somehow slip in the question that was burning in my mind. I had certainly not planned to talk to her on the phone for a few minutes, only to find out that she didn't have any time for me. I tried not to think that, no matter how much work Yves had to do, she would have found the time to meet me if she had really cared. And since she didn't have that time, there was only one conclusion I could draw: She didn't care.

How I wished this all had come to a different end!

_I spent the last three days  
Hovering on the edge of reason  
Waiting for you to react  
I tried so many ways  
Not finding neither rhyme nor reason  
Waiting for fear to attack_

_You pushed me over the edge  
Confusing me, making me wonder  
Making a fool of myself  
My dumbness is making me retch  
It's killing me, dragging me under  
I wanna be someone else_

_I lost you, I know, and it cuts like a knife  
You were almost a friend and a part of my life  
I can't breathe, can't go on  
Do you think I am strong?  
Well, I'm telling you now I am not  
I screwed up, I know, and it's not what I planned  
How I wish it had come to a different end  
I can't say it's alright  
I have lost you, my light  
And I'll never again hold you tight_

_I'll spend the rest of my time  
Hovering on the edge of reason  
Wondering what I did wrong  
Did I commit a crime?  
Asking if there had been a reason  
I guess I just took too long_

_You pushed me over the edge  
Breaking my heart without knowing  
How can you be so blind?  
This feeling I can't seem to catch  
Why is it impossible showing  
What took us so long to find?_

_I lost you, I know, and it cuts like a knife  
How am I supposed to get on with my life  
When you're no longer there?  
Did you actually care  
When your kisses spilled over my face?  
I screwed up, I know, and you'll never come back  
And the memory is like a noose 'round my neck  
Claws of grief rip my heart  
And they tear it apart  
Leave my faith in love battered and scarred_

_I remember your words  
But it aches and it hurts  
Love is gentle, but me it deserts  
How shall I ever know how it works?_

_End Note: And this is how the story ends. At least my story. But I won't leave you with this situation. Why should I have Jimmy suffer what I'm going through? I'm a nice person g. I'll put up another intermezzo and a third and maybe even a fourth chapter, bringing this soap opera to a decent end. Maybe it helps me as well... You never know!_


	4. Entr'Acte 2

Entr'Acte 

_Author's Note:__ From now on, everything that happens will be ficticious. My own story ends here, but why should I do the same to Jimmy and Yves? In the following intermezzo and the next chapter, I'm trying to evaluate the character of the guy in question and then "femalize" it and put the whole thing into Yves. I know that Yves has been (and probably will be) out of character throughout this story, and I sincerely apologize for that. But if I change anything, then this story will REALLY make no sense whatsoever. After all, I just wrote it to figure out my own situation..._

_Disclaimer:__ Same as last time: Not mine. The song at the end is, though. But it's only an excerpt, not the whole text._

I am confused. I am deeply confused, and that is a rare thing. Usually I can handle each and every situation, no matter how tricky. But this time it's different.

Because it's about Jimmy.

Jimmy, Jimmy, and always Jimmy. He is the only man who can make me feel like an eighteen-year-old again. He makes me fall back into this old pattern of flirting, trying, playing, and retreating. I used to be a straightforward person. I used to say honestly whatever was on my mind. Why can't I this time?

People often say I am a beautiful woman. And therefore they expect me to behave like one. They see me and think, "I'm sure she's having boys at her fingertips." But this has never been the case. When I am in a relationship, I no longer notice any other men.

In fact, I never endured very long in a relationship. This has of course to do with what I do. As a matter of fact, I cannot recall the last time I was really in love. I've had some men, but I guess I was in fact only looking for the one man I belong to. Looking for the one man who sees me in a different light. The one man who likes me for what I am, who knows about my errors and faults, who understands the way my mind works, and who still loves me for what I am.

Looking for someone like Jimmy.

I know that Jimmy has at least had a serious crush on me since the first day we met. I can still picture him staring at me. And as the months went by, we grew to be a good team. We even became friends. But then the guys died, and with them, the link between us broke.

Funny how vividly this memory is playing on. In fact, I do not know why I reacted so strangely to Jimmy. Why did I never answer his calls? Why did I refuse to keep up the contact after the guys died? God knows Jimmy tried. I remember how good it felt to hear his voice. But it was always he who called, and some time later, he stopped calling. And I lived on from day to day, as I always had, trying to ban the thoughts of him from my mind. But my subconscious will not let me forget, of course. I cannot count the times I have dreamed of Jimmy.

Seeing him again that night in the club was heaven and hell, all in one. Just one look at him, and everything came back. I guess he felt it, too. The way he looked at me, the way his eyes shone with joy, the way he held me…

I was not as drunk as I pretended to be; in fact, I was almost sober. But playing drunk seemed the only way to give Jimmy a sign and yet keep him at a sort of distance. I was torn apart; in fact, I still am. It is so different with Jimmy. I do not want to lose him, but past experience has shown that I seem to have a talent to lose the men I love – or whom I think I love. So I figured it would be better not to let Jimmy into my heart at all. The less we share, the less there is to miss when it is over.

Only it does not work like this. I had not planned to kiss him, but when I saw him, I was so overwhelmed by my feelings… I guess I always knew that this was bound to happen, and I think Jimmy knew it as well. He was startled, of course, but he was not exactly surprised. For these few seconds, we were like one person. We just connected.

But I had to withdraw. I could not allow myself to stay with him – God knows I would have loved to. My feelings for Jimmy are so precious that I almost fear to ever say them out loud. This thing between us is so special that I sometimes fear it is only an illusion. And this illusion may burst, should we ever decide to go out together. What if this "special" feeling is in fact only plain sexual attraction?

Jimmy called me, and I almost agreed to meet him. But then I couldn't. I just couldn't. I did not lie to him, though; I really have a lot to do. But every time I hear his voice, it cuts like a knife. I can see how hard he tries not to get on my nerves, not to call too often, not to push me into anything… and all the time I know very well that he is probably dying to finally get an answer… an explanation… some statement about my behavior. And I cannot give him what he needs. No one deserves the truth more than Jimmy, and still I just can't. For telling the truth would mean telling him everything.

No, I cannot risk to surrender. How does that saying go… Be careful what you wish for, because you might get it.

May Jimmy keep his perfect image of me. May he keep his dream. He deserves a woman who is not in constant fear of losing him again. I wish him only the best, but I know that he is never going to find in me what he is looking for. Maybe we are too different, after all.

And still I do not want him to find somebody else. Still I want him to keep trying. His faithfulness is what keeps me alive. As long as he does not stop trying, there is a slight chance that the thing between us really _is_ something special. But one day, he will think there is no chance left for him, and he will give up. And then I will know that it was my own fault, that I gave away the chance of my life.

_Grant me the chance to redeem what I did_

_Don't punish me too hard_

_The traitor is regretful_

_Grant me the chance to explain what I did_

_Don't play your final card_

_'Cause justice is forgetful_

_I plead for a suspended sentence_

_Let me find a way back to you_

_I am Judas on probation_

_I deserve a second chance_

_How I hate this situation_

_Give me just a second glance_

__

_End Note:__ It's pretty difficult to express what I mean. I hope this sounds at least a little bit logical. Keep a look out for the last chapter…_


	5. Conclusion

**Conclusion **

_A/N: This is the last chapter of this darned story. This part is entirely fictitious; I just hope that my own story may end in a similar way…_

_Disclaimer: Still not mine. But Chris Carter and his crew should have known better than to leave the fans with this half-baked love story… And the song this time belongs to Hoobastank._

**Jimmy: **

The anniversary of the guys' death was a Tuesday this year, and I arrived in Arlington shortly after 11 a.m. I had barely entered the cemetery when I spotted a person standing in front of the guys' memorial. My heart started racing wildly, but I noticed very fast that this couldn't be Yves. Unmistakably, the person was a man.

It turned out to be Assistant Director Skinner. I talked to him for a while, but there wasn't much we could talk about. I asked him about the agents Mulder and Scully, but he wouldn't tell me anything. He just said that they were fine.

The next person to arrive was Agent Reyes, and Agent Doggett came a few moments later. They were both very nice to me, although I had the slight suspicion that it took them a while to remember who I was. Once they had remembered, though, they asked me how I was and what I was doing. We talked a while, but then they had to leave. They were working on a new case, I reckoned, and their lunch break was over. They left together. I looked after them and noticed that they were walking very close side by side. Was it a coincidence… or was there something going on that I didn't know?

None of my business, of course. But this made me think of Yves, and my heart cringed. I looked around, and when I was convinced that I was alone, I stepped closer to the memorial and started talking.

"Hello, guys," I said in a low voice. "It's been a while since I visited you the last time. As a matter of fact, I haven't been here since this time last year. And so much has happened since then… I don't even know where to start. I live in Chicago now. Life hasn't been easy since we lost you, you know. I miss my task, and I even miss you bossing me about. After all, we had some fun, didn't we?

"I've got some serious problem going on with Yves. You may not believe it, but I saw her again. I told you we'd lost the contact, didn't I? Well, anyway, we met again in a club a few months ago. And what can I say… it was as if we'd never parted. There was still something going on between us, if you know what I mean. And I didn't make pretending or something, I tell you! There _was_ something. But Yves was pretty drunk, and so I don't know whether she even remembers what she did. She kissed me, you know. She just kissed me, and then she disappeared into the crowd. No explanation, no further conversation, nada! And now I don't know what to make of all the fuss. Shall I call her again and insist that she explain it to me? Or shall I just sit back and wait until she does something? You know, women… It's so difficult to understand what they want; sometimes I doubt that they know themselves. (I reckon I'm not the first man on earth to reach this conclusion.)

"Guys, help me! I've got the feeling that Yves is avoiding me, and I don't know why. Maybe she's embarrassed. Or she waits for me to take the first step. Or she can't remember a thing. But I need to do _something_, or otherwise I'll go mad! I tell you, the next time I see her I won't let her shrug off the matter like some unpleasant problem she wants to deal with later. Next time I'll just…" I trailed off.

What, actually, was I going to do? It was easy to make plans right now, but what would I do when she was actually standing in front of me? Knowing myself, I reckoned I'd lose courage and just talk for hours without really saying anything.

I made a resolution. I decided to me a man. I decided not to lose courage. I decided to show Yves that my love for her was real. It wasn't just some blaze that faded after the first night or something. I would love her all my life.

If she let me.

"Guys," I said silently, "I swear to you here on your graves: I won't give up. Not this time. I won't let her go again. She slipped from me, but this will not happen again. And if you have any means to help me – this is the moment! You see, I need all the help I can get."

I remained silent for a moment. I had gotten so emotional that I almost expected a sign from the guys. There was nothing, of course, only the soft rustling of the leaves and the almost inaudible whispering of the grass.

"Mind me sitting down for a sec?" I asked the memorial.

I sat down in front of the white stone memorial and instantly sank into thoughts.

**Yves:**

All the time while I was driving down to Arlington, I wondered whether this was really a good idea. I hadn't been to the cemetery for two years, and there was a reasonable chance that Jimmy would be there, too. And I had avoided Jimmy. But the situation had become unbearable for me. All this hiding and pretending was unfair. Jimmy deserved something more courageous than this. And so I'd gotten in my car this morning, determined to go to the cemetery and finally clean up this mess I'd left behind.

And besides, the gunmen had been too important to be ignored. The second anniversary of their deaths, and in all those two years I hadn't been to Arlington.

I parked my car and walked the rest of the way. A man and a woman came from the opposite direction, and they both looked at me with that uncertain smile people smile when they are not sure whether they know the person they're just looking at or not. They seemed vaguely familiar to me, but at first I couldn't place them. It wasn't until five minutes later that I remembered that they were the two FBI agents who had investigated the case that had led to the gunmen's deaths. Doggett and Reyes. I turned around, but they were already out of sight.

My pace slowed down as I approached the gunmen's memorial. It became harder and harder for me to set one foot in front of the other. One last turn, and I was looking directly at the memorial.

And at Jimmy, sitting in front of it.

He seemed to be deeply in thought. His back was turned to me, and he had rested his chin in his hands. I stopped and looked at him. His clothing was still the same as usual, plain jeans and a tee shirt, and his frizzy hair was long overdue for a cut. I pictured his face with one strand of hair constantly falling over his eyes, and my heart started to beat faster. There was Jimmy, just a few yards away, and yet he seemed unreachable. I knew I just had to take another few steps, or call, but I stood frozen to the ground and wondered why Jimmy didn't turn around. It seemed to me as if he should sense my presence over a mile.

This turned out to be true a moment later when Jimmy slowly turned his head and looked at me.

**Jimmy:**

I don't know what made me turn around. Maybe I had heard her footsteps, or I had seen a shadow. Or I had sensed her, who knows. Anyway, suddenly I felt the urge to turn around, for I was sure that someone was standing there. So I turned, and there was Yves.

She didn't speak or move, she just looked at me, and I met her gaze. Although the thoughts were rushing through my head, I remained calm. Just one look, and she and I reconnected. It was amazing. I looked at her, and her dark, deep eyes looked back at me, and none of us said a word. We didn't need to say anything. I noticed that she seemed to tremble slightly, and then I knew that she was feeling the same about me. Yves hadn't forgotten anything.

Slowly, I got up, and at the same moment, Yves covered the distance between us with a few steps. She stopped beside me and looked at the memorial.

"I've been thinking a lot of them lately," she said eventually. Her voice was very quiet. "They were fighting for a good thing, weren't they?"

"Sure they were," I answered. "I still miss them. Don't you?"

"I do," said Yves.

And then we fell silent again. She was standing beside me, and I knew it would take me only a minimal movement to touch her, and still it would look coincidental. But I didn't want to play games. This was serious. It was the most serious thing I ever had to face.

"I saw those agents," Yves said. "Doggett and Reyes."

"They were here," I said. "I talked to them for a while."

And we fell silent again. This time, the silence lasted a lifetime, it seemed, and I decided I couldn't wait any longer.

"Yves…"

Yves finally turned her head to look at me. "Jimmy, I'm sorry," she said. "I know my behavior must have been mighty strange, and I want to apologize."

"Don't," I said, and my voice was husky. My heart was a heavy lump in my throat. Yves made as to speak again, but I shook my head. "Don't," I said again. "I don't want an apology. If you apologize, it means that there's something that you regret. Tell me, Yves, is there anything you regret?"

I held her gaze, and after a moment she lowered her eyes and shook her head. "No," she said. "I don't regret anything apart from the fact that I never answered your calls and constantly tried to avoid you. But I can explain…"

"I don't want an explanation now," I interrupted her. "Yves, I just want you to know that I'm here. Right now. I'm with you, and it's entirely up to you whether it will be the last time or not. Whatever you'll say, I'll accept your decision. I know how I feel, and I guess so do you, but no matter if you reciprocate those feelings or not, I don't want to lose you. This is the most important thing of all. I'm not going to lose you again, Yves."

While I was talking, Yves's eyes started to get wet. When I ended, a single tear dropped from her long lashes and slowly rolled down her cheek.

"Yves…" I whispered, a little helplessly. _Be a man_, I reminded myself. _You vowed not to chicken out. _

Without displaying any hesitation or doubts, I bent to her face and softly kissed that tear away. Feeling her soft skin under my lips was wonderful. All my emotions stirred in my heart and sent little shockwaves through every synapse in my body. It wasn't exactly passion, it was more like an immeasurable wave of tenderness and affection. I lifted my hand and softly touched the other side of her face with my fingertips. Stroking her cheek, I placed another kiss on the spot where the tear had been. And then I let go again.

**Yves:**

This was no longer the Jimmy I knew. For one moment, he seemed to understand every bit of me. Every fiber of my being. Every fear and doubt inside me. For the first time, I saw that Jimmy had matured. His kiss had not been passionate or demanding, it had been consoling, incredibly tender and almost solemn. And still it had displayed a love more deeply than any passionate kiss ever could.

I closed my eyes. My heart was about to burst. How could I ever give this man up? How could I ever let him go? Jimmy was the man I'd been looking for all those years. He and no one else.

I opened my eyes again and found Jimmy looking at me. His eyes, usually sparkling with good humor, now bore an expression that was hard to understand.

"Tell me to go now and I'll leave," he said. "And I'll never again bother you with any questions about what happened that night in the club."

_No, no, no!_

I didn't speak. I reached out my hand and stroked the side of his face. I felt as if I was in a trance, and I took a step towards Jimmy. Without saying a word, I leaned my head against his chest and let him hold me. I felt his arms around me, and a feeling of safety and warmth I had never known came over me. It was as if I'd finally come home after a long, long journey. My arms crept around Jimmy's waist, and I closed my eyes as I felt his heartbeat next to me.

We stood like this for a long time, and during this time, everything that had been before started to fade until there was only this moment left. Only this moment that erased my fears of losing the man I loved.

Only this moment that marked the beginning of a new life.

A life with Jimmy.

_I've found a reason for me  
To change who I used to be  
A reason to start over new  
and the reason is you_

_I've found a reason to show  
A side of me you didn't know  
A reason for all that I do  
And the reason is you_

THE END

_End Note: And here ends this story. Cross your fingers for me that my own story might come to a similar end… Thanks for reading this, and don't forget to send a review._

_Additional End Note: In case you want to know: I finally managed to talk the whole thing over with the guy in question (at least sort of), but it became very clear that there was nothing to it. Well, it made it easier to "un-crush" on him… I'm over it ;)_


End file.
